


Reminder

by WolfIsa



Series: In Enemy Hands [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Begging, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Guard/Prisoner - Freeform, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 09:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfIsa/pseuds/WolfIsa
Summary: Ondolemar reveals a fantasy he had about Pyshavin before they got 'closer' and it's realized, though not in the way either of them expected.





	Reminder

Pyshavin crossed his arms over his chest in disbelief, looking at his...well, he wasn’t entirely sure what their relationship was classified as, he supposed still guard then back forward.

“People are going to start suspecting,” he stated, walking in to his cell. Inside, his cot he had been given as a privilege had been replaced by a luxurious albeit small bed. Another gift from Ondolemar since they’d had their...fun together.

The Altmer merely scoffed at the mention, “Did you forget? You’re mine in the eyes of the Thalmor. If I want to bestow something on what’s _mine_ , I will do so and not a brow will be raised.”

The mariner rolled his eyes at being talked about like he was somehow actually the property of the Justiciar. They both knew the power dynamic between them was nearly balanced in every aspect, the only detractor being Pyshavin was still technically a prisoner and couldn’t actually have any freedoms without them being expressly granted. True, Ondolemar had claimed him but he had done the same to the other elf. This was just ridiculous, however. It was like the man was trying to court him.

“I’m sure a few will be raised. The bed looks terribly off sitting just five feet from a pillory afterall.”

The high elf glanced over at the cross then shrugged. “What, you never considered that to be something we might have in our bedroom?”

That caught Pyshavin off guard a little bit. “That in _our_ bedroom?”

“Did you expect to live in this cell forever?”

“Well, no but…” He looked back at the pillory. “Are you trying to tell me something about your plans for us or for me?”

The Justiciar remained silent, his face tinting for a moment- not out of embarrassment but his front of pride and dignity up. Only Pyshavin could break that and he planned to do so tonight.

The other elf smirked knowingly, turning to approach his guard. “Did you fantasize about it before or after you fucked my mouth raw?” he asked, referring to the night his seduction proved successful in clear provocation, his tongue flicking out to swipe his bottom lip.

Ondolemar hesitated to answer at first but then amber eyes shifted and locked with the other’s. “Before,” he admitted with the confidence he usually held when in public, his shoulders squaring back as he stood even straighter than he normally did.

The Maormer’s lips tugged further in to a small grin. “You horny Altmer bastard…” he provoked again, knowing what that cheeky comment was going to earn him.

And it worked. 

There was a loud clang that echoed around the cells as Pyshavin’s head smacked against the bars of his own followed by an instinctual gasp as the guard’s hand wrapped around his throat. Not tight enough to harm him but enough to restrict his breathing. The sea elf brought his hands up to the other’s wrist, his torso squirming in the appearance of resisting but in truth, he was delighting in this. 

One hand was forced to release its grip, being slammed against the metal next to the Maormer’s head and held there. The golden elf encroached in his space, right before his face, “Don’t lose sight of who the whore is here.”

A wave of anticipation and pleasure ran over the pinned elf, a broken chuckle escaping his captive throat. “Remind me.” He closed his own hand stronger around the man’s wrist, actually pulling it closer, sighing at the pressure.

Ondolemar practically growled, his hands abandoning the other elf’s arm and throat to grab his hips and flip him around, planting him face first against the small gap between bars, then moving to hastily fumble and rip at the other’s pants. 

It wasn’t long before the mariner was stripped nude, him never making any attempt to stop it or get out of the position he was in- even when he felt hands leave him and heard the distinct sound of leather being fretted with and falling to the floor. He let out a soft groan when contact was returned as the other male’s form came pressed against him, a hand coming to tangle in his hair, yanking back harshly as he felt the guard’s slowly hardening member slip between his cheeks and rub against him.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” the Altmer commanded, his other hand sliding around to the captive’s chest, fingernails digging in to his velvety skin until they reached a nipple where they pinched and pulled, eliciting a hiss in front of him.

Pyshavin bit his lip in defiant silence, hands gripping the bars until his nipple was twisted and he let out a yelp and moaned, hips grinding back against the elf. His mohawk was pulled back harder and teeth made their way to his shoulder, biting down once tearing another yelp out.

“Say it, you filthy slut.”

The Maormer had never intended to play submissive to the golden elf but the first time he snapped...the sadist that came out of it just hit the right chord in him that made him rock solid. He wanted to be a brat, wanted to push that commanding persona to the brink but Ondolemar made it so fucking difficult to resist giving in immediately. He’d have to save the experimentation for another playdate.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Justiciar,” the elf pleaded, knowing adding the title would at least provide a little more goading.

“Beg me to fuck you, prisoner,” the officer demanded, his voice growing lower and gritty, not satisfied with the inital appeal but certainly liking the sound of his station being said in such a debased fashion.

“ _Ooh_ ..,” Pyshavin groaned, feeling the head of the other’s cock rub over his hole and the order hitting his ears, “I want you to fuck me so badly. Please... _please_ fuck me.”

Apparently that was good enough because he was dragged away from the bars by his hair out to the pillory. It also seemed that the Altmer was serious about that fantasy as he placed the other’s head and arms in the indents and closed the top piece, putting the lock through the holes but not closing it. The mariner squirmed in his confines, rear sticking out and legs spread slightly in more of a show than an attempt to free himself when he felt a sharp slap against it ripping a surprised sob from him.

Another slap hit the opposite cheek, then another, then another- alternating sides until the skin on his ass was tender and hot from the spanking. At this point the Maormer was so aroused his member was almost dribbling with pre-cum and it was starting to hurt a little. 

“ _Please fuck me, Ondolemar_!” This time he wasn’t responding to a command, but legitimately begging.

The hand that had been smacking his bottom came to softly rub one of the now reddened areas, a dark chuckle rumbling from the Justiciar’s chest. He then came around in front of Pyshavin, the elf finally getting to see lean but defined muscles made up what he could see of his bare torso- not a hair to be seen on his skin except for a little silver patch that trailed up from his crotch in the gap in his trousers where his fully erect and exquisitely long length rested on display. His mouth watered and the sight went straight to his already straining cock. 

Ondolemar bent over slightly just enough to meet the prisoner’s face, fingers lightly running through his hair, his demeanor softened somewhat just for the moment as he muttered, “You’re going to scream so loud the soldiers here are going to think I’m torturing you.” He then leaned in and gave a sharp nip to the other’s lips with his teeth before returning behind him, giving one more good smack on his behind.

The feeling of oil being poured down his crack and running down his thighs drew a hum from the Maormer that evolved into a low sigh as he felt two fingers run along his puckered hole, circling the rim. 

“Your skin is so smooth this is going to be like fucking a silk sleeve…” Ondolemar commented, running his fingers lower to brush the other’s sac and receiving a mewl in reply. He brought them back up, using his other hand to pull a globe to the side exposing the sea elf further and shoving the digits inside all the way to their webbing and back out again.

“ _Aaann_ ...ff- _uuhh_...ck...yesss…” Pyshavin whimpered, his back arching down to press his ass out more, trying to get more of the feeling of those fingers. 

Once more, they entered fluidly as deeply as they could before slowly exiting and again a smack to his ass reverberated through the room. It happened a few more times before stopping for good and were replaced with something much larger. The Altmer tried to enter gently but it was so slick he ended up sliding all the way to the hilt with a moan- not that the other elf was complaining. In fact, he groaned loudly, straining against the pillory to press himself back against the entry. 

Gripping the sea elf’s hips, Ondolemar pulled out almost completely and slammed back in, hissing in pleasure at the effortless friction. 

“You said you--uhhn--were going to make me scream. Do it. Aaah--do iiiit,” Pyshavin keened, adding to the officer’s pleasure.

His grip tightened, bruising the skin beneath his fingers, “Only if you keep talking like this. Tell me how much you want my cock, how much you love it inside you. How good it feels, how much you want more. If you stop, I’ll stop.”

The point where the trapped elf was being a tease had long passed and he didn’t even pause in obeying as he felt the hard flesh slide in to him again agonizingly slow. “ _Faster_ . Fuck me. Make me _scream_. Plow me until I can’t breathe,” he began lewdly and got exactly what he asked for.

The high elf kept his painfully rigid hold on Pyshavin’s hips and started to thrust faster, harder- burying himself deep in to the satiny heat of the prisoner’s ass setting a rapidly harsh pace. The wood of the pillory creaked with their movements, an obscene flood of cries flooding from the Maormer’s mouth as he was pounded in to, barely drowning out the wet clapping of their hips meeting. 

“Say you love taking my dick, whore!” 

Pyshavin could barely register the demand, his head swimming from the delicious mix of pain and pleasure at the roughness, body thrashing against the wooden shackle but he still responded in enthusiastic cries, “ _I love it_ ! **Ah-ah** ! You feel--so fu-- _mmmm_ \--so fucking good! Don’t stop, please, don’t _oooh_ stop!”

Knowing that Pyshavin wasn’t just putting on a show for his benefit in this only fueled the Altmer on but he still wanted more. He wanted to know that the other male _craved_ him and so he stopped completely, shuffling a little closer but halting in place after and releasing his hold with one hand, earning him a disappointed and frustrated whine.

“Fuck yourself on me,” Ondolemar growled, the hand still holding on to him sliding down to grab his ass cheek and squeeze hard.

The mariner’s head rolled back as far as it could in his constraints, teeth biting down on each other as he began bouncing his hips to pound himself on the stock-still golden cock inside him. His breath was ragged and the praising debauched cries had come to an end from the exertion but it was clear he was still enjoying this- body quivering everytime he thrust himself on Ondolemar’s member wringing out a disgustingly erotic moan from his very being as he set as quick and solid pace as he could manage from his restraints which was significantly less than what he’d hoped for but still so good. 

It was the captor’s chance to start the verbal adoration as he massaged the cheek in his grasp, eyes glued to the scene of the Maormer slamming his ass against him desperately. “Yes...just like that… You like it, don’t you? Want more? You dirty whore...ah...keep going…” He was reveling in this, the rolls of physical satisfaction being matched by Pyshavin’s eagerness in engaging him wholly. Each thrust, each sound intoxicating him further.

Eventually it became clear that it was getting difficult for the sea elf to keep going on his own and mercy was shown. Fingers trailed up his inked backside, gripping his shoulder and arching his belly down, practically impaling the elf’s hole on his length with a growl of heady delight from both of them. 

A new rhythm was instituted as Ondolemar would pull out slow and steady before slamming back in deeply and grinding his hips even further in. Each lunge ripping a needy shout from the prisoner, stars bursting behind his eyes, drawing them both closer to the edge in a hike. Pyshavin had begun his pleas again, not so much screaming them now as babbling like a mad man as his head was turned to mush at this point, the Altmer grinning like an animal as he continued. 

Soon the appeals turned to one single repeated desire, “Make me come...please make me come...so good...want to come for you…”

And Ondolemar was happy to oblige. He shifted, hammering into his partner fiercely dragging out broken and garbled screams from his throat. It didn’t take long before the other male was clamping down around him, insides shuddering as he convulsed- his climax swallowing him entirely and spilling out like a flooded pool. It crushed him and laid him flat, a long pitched cry hoarsely pouring out.

The Justiciar kept going a few more times, pumping himself so hard into the elf he could feel his toes lifting off the floor slightly until orgasm snapped, his seed rushing deeply into Pyshavin’s abused hole and dribbling out around his length as he slowed, milking every last wave of pleasure before pulling out entirely. 

He released his harsh grip on the man’s rear and shoulder, hands coming around him to splay across his chest as he leaned in, peppering the other’s back with kisses and the occasional attentive lick, attempting to soothe the exhausted Maormer whose slightly limp frame had given itself to using the pillory as support. 

Ondolemar’s gentle caresses were appreciated, Pyshavin humming contentedly pressing back weakly against the warmth of weight behind him with a light smile. “Mm...would you take me to the bed?” he requested, his voice uneven from his dry throat.

The Altmer undid the pillory, making sure to hold on to the captive as he was freed and scooped him up, bringing him to the bed and laying him down gently, then sat beside him. Running his fingers lightly over his skin, he asked, “Do you need healing?”

The sea elf chuckled a little, still humming at the attention, “A little.”

The ministering hand trailed down between the other’s legs, fingertips glowing with the light of a Restoration spell. He cast it, mending any tender flesh around and in the area before starting to move on to the man’s hips at which point it was pushed away. “Mmnno,” Pyshavin actually whined a little, “Leave the rest.”

“Are they not hurting though?” 

“Yes, they are but I like the feeling. Feels like you’re still touching me,” he revealed, leaning on an elbow so he was somewhat level with the Justiciar’s face. The arm not holding his body up came to carry his hand across the shaved fuzz on the Altmer’s scalp, pulling him forward and connecting their lips with a sigh. “It’s a good reminder,” he murmured before going back in for another kiss, hooking his hand behind Ondolemar’s neck. 

A pleasant shiver ran down the golden elf’s spine from Pyshavin expressing he wanted to keep the marks, feeling almost validated in having put them there. The kisses were unexpected but not unwelcome, in fact he affectionately engaged with the second one, an arm coming to wrap around his partner’s waist and embrace him tenderly. They spent the rest of the night this way, sharing mellow touches and soft caresses until they were too tired to stay awake, Pyshavin asking the Altmer to remain with him. Ondolemar granted the request gladly, even letting the prisoner to hold him in an embrace as they slept.


End file.
